


Adventures with Strip Gwent

by Standbacklucy



Series: A Cat Among the Wolves [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: #He calls him Pretty Boy and everything, #Lambert has a crush on Geralt, #like seriously guys, Body Worship, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Geralt/Yennifer mention, Lambert Swears (The Witcher), M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Masturbation, Past Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Porn With Plot, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Spanking, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Vesemir's A+ parenting, it’s bad, or is it...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26434840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Standbacklucy/pseuds/Standbacklucy
Summary: This is my first work on this site, so forgive my dust. I hope you like these shenanigans and tune in for more chapters, I have them written but they are in the editing stages and are as of yet unpostable. Please, if you can, leave me a comment on what you think so far, it would mean a lot to me! <3
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert
Series: A Cat Among the Wolves [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925332
Comments: 26
Kudos: 71





	1. Just a Taste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Babblefishgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babblefishgirl/gifts).



> This is my first work on this site, so forgive my dust. I hope you like these shenanigans and tune in for more chapters, I have them written but they are in the editing stages and are as of yet unpostable. Please, if you can, leave me a comment on what you think so far, it would mean a lot to me! <3

Dealing the cards to himself, yet again, made Lambert want to puke. If he plays just one more round of this stupid game alone, he probably will end up puking. Or could be the vodka making him feel that way. He had been hitting the hooch, and he had been hitting it hard. He always did when his feelings started chasing him, just chase them right back with a mug-full or three.

He makes the vodka himself, and had it go a little too long this time. The burn on the way down was, if he was being honest with himself, a little more than he could handle. This was the last of that batch. There was a new batch in the distillery now and he swore he wasn’t going to leave it alone. Watch it like a hawk. By his calculations it should be done any minute now.  
He took another swig and grimaced. Eskel was right, those potatoes would have been better served in his stew. He shuffled the cards again. A few cards went rogue and fell out onto the table. “Damn it.” he mumbled.

Lambert appreciated Gwent, but he could never like it as much as Geralt does; Geralt loves it so much he had traveled nearly everywhere to play. He was the reigning champion in Skellige and… a few other places that Lambert couldn’t remember; who can keep track these days?

“Ugh,” he shook his head clear of the intrusive thoughts of the feelings he had had for Geralt since Lambert’s boyhood, “not again with this shit.” He chastised himself. He was trying to sharpen his Gwent skills, so he could beat that champ at his own game. But not to impress Geralt, no way, no how... he just had his jackass status to uphold.

Ok, sure, he did strive to get the older, wiser witcher’s attention, and had even succeeded a few times. Most notably, the time he had killed that griffon contract in front of him. It had been a difficult fight and Lambert had to use the knowledge he had acquired from the other witcher schools to get out alive. He used the Cat’s agility to get the Viper’s use of poisons directly where he needed with the Wolf’s intimate knowledge of the beast. He didn’t even know Geralt was there until he whistled low and walked out from behind the bushes. Geralt had looked at him differently then and had touched his shoulder in a way that had made his stomach flutter. He found that he had enjoyed having Geralt’s attention in that way. Lambert chased that fluttery feeling with Geralt ever since. Gods, he was getting so drunk and mushy.

If he was to dethrone Geralt, he would have to be impressed and would likely pay plenty of attention to him. But Lambert just didn’t have what it took to play endless games of Gwent against endless faces, and Geralt did. He thought back to the time when Geralt had won the championship, Lambert bought a Gwent skill book the day he heard about it. He was still working from that book, and it was a beginner’s guide. Vesemir’s voice echoed in his head, ‘If you want to beat the best, learn the basics’

“Shut up, Old Man, geeze, don’t you ever shut up!” Lambert muttered drunkenly. He set up another tricky scenario he remembered from the book. He drained his mug while he tried to think his way out of the trap he had laid for himself.

Geralt was brilliant, he would get out of this bind in no time at all. Lambert could almost see Geralt’s triumphant face as the famous White Wolf tossed the final card onto the table, winning the match. Lambert had to admit he was losing this fight against his thoughts. He had no other choice but to concede; he had always had these feelings for Geralt hanging over him and probably always will.

Ever since he could remember, Geralt would let his flaxen, white hair fall in front of his eyes for a moment and Lambert’s stomach would do that thing he liked. Geralt would laugh and Lambert would melt a little inside. Hell, Geralt would simply walk away in front of him and Lambert’s eyes couldn’t help watching his rolling cheeks, and flexing thighs. He sighed. He threw down a card and won the round against himself easily. Boy, this was sad.

He lifted his mug to his mouth and found it to be empty. Disgusted, he turned it upside down and shook it. A drop or two fell on to the stone floor of the keep.

“Fuck, empty.” He told no one in particular. Geralt would never look at him like he did that day with the griffon again, why does he try so hard? He got up off the bench and went to check on his vodka. Dipping out a mug of the stuff, he studied it. The color, the consistency, the smell. He took a whiff while swirling it in his mug. In order to amuse and distract himself, he decided to act like a fancy nobleman at a winetasting.

“Why, yes, my fair lady.” He changed his voice to a higher pitch but still obviously male tone and stuck his nose as high in the air as it would go, “The bouquet is quite floral, care to have a taste?” He took a few steps to the right and faced where he was just standing. He raised his voice to a silly feminine one with a slight southern twang, “Don’t mind if I do, you handsome, young gentleman!”

As he tipped the mug into his mouth and swallowed some of the contents down, he saw a shadow pass in the doorway out of the corner of his eye. ‘Hey!’ Lambert would have said if he wasn’t drinking, instead it came out as a bubbly noise and he spat some of the vodka back into the mug the rest went down his throat in one big gulp. A very amused Geralt appeared and leaned against the wall. Sputtering, he nearly dropped the mug, there was vodka dribbling down his chin and, in his haste to lower the mug, he had dumped some on the floor and down his front.

“Is this a two-person tasting or can anyone join in?” Geralt snickered. Lambert coughed and spit trying to make the burning in his throat be not so unbearable. 

After a few moments he managed, “Fuck off or drink with me if you’re going to.”

“Don’t know if I want to drink that shit after that display.” He laughed sitting at the bench opposite Lambert’s side of the table. “But there’s nothing better to do tonight, so,” Geralt does a poor impression of Lambert’s poor impression with one hand waving grandiosely in the air, “Pour, my good man, and let us taste of this floral bouquet!”

Lambert decided to glaze over the teasing. If he dwelled on it, he might die of embarrassment, “It doesn’t have a floral anything, but it will hit your liver just right. Where’s your mug?” he snapped.


	2. All Bets are Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is finally up! I am excited for this one, I hope you like it!

“And that’s a win for me!” Geralt drawled drunkenly tipping more of Lambert’s vodka into his mouth. Lambert had been on a winning streak, of course he just had to lose now when he had called out all or nothing. Melitele damn his drunken hubris.

“Aww, gimme another chance, Pretty Boy! I gotta earn my money back!” Lambert whined.

“Nope, you lost it, I keep it. That’s how all or nothing works.” Lambert tried to think through his vodka induced haze for a bit. His eyes trailed all over the man in front of him. An opportunity faded into view, and Lambert drunkenly grasped at it.

“How ‘bout we antiup?” he slurred, “to strip Gwent!” he put his hand up in the air to add emphasis and hopefully make the idea more appealing. Making it look like a grand statement. Lambert was feeling sure of his skills, he wouldn’t lose a stitch!

“Aww, come on, Lambert, I don’t wanna to see your naked ass!” Geralt said with a laugh. Lambert’s heart sank for a moment at that, but it rose again when Geralt began picking his hand. Hope wiggled its awful way into Lambert’s chest. It left his mouth in the form of a giggle, which was too high-pitched. 

Quickly he covered that up with, “All I’ll have left on is Vesemir’s old hat if you keep playin’ like you did that last game.”

“That’s gunna be the first thing to go.” He said pointedly, his hand already picked out. Hurriedly, Lambert followed suit and had his own cards clutched in his hands. He looked at them, studying them and making plans. He looked at his opponent over them and lost all his plans.

Geralt was focused on his own cards so much that he was biting his lower lip in a mindless gesture. Lambert loved when he did that, he couldn’t say why. Maybe it made him jealous, maybe he liked seeing how his plush lips pressed back against his teeth, maybe he likes how the color changes when he bites too hard. “While we’re young, Pretty Boy.” He muttered.

“Alright, alright! Keep your shirt on.”

“I plan to!” Lambert laughed, “And pro’ly will judging by how long it’s takin’ you to make your first move!”

The first game, while quite the war, was Geralt’s… again. Lambert had tried to remember some sly tricks he had made up himself but was distracted by his opponent’s winning smile. “That hat. Get rid of it!” he said just a hint of triumph in his drunken tones.

“Gah. Fine.” The hat flopped on the table beside Lambert. He vowed to himself that he would do better this time, he was drunk enough to consider cheating against his friend if he must! Maybe he wouldn’t have to cheat… if he played his cards right. He picked himself out a hand, started the game like a lightweight, and waited for the perfect moment.

Geralt was a few cards from victory when Lambert decided to spring his trap while sneering out “So, I hear that Yen has moved into the town just down the way. Gunna go and pay her a visit?” he slid his card onto the table and knew it was the beginning of his win.

“What?” Geralt asked, sobering slightly, “She didn’t say anything to me about it.”

“Yeah, I heard that she rode in on a big… white… unicorn.” This game was as good as Lambert’s. A few more cards were thrown before Geralt had to concede that he had lost the round.

“Haha!” Lambert shouted, he picked up the hat and plunked it on his head, standing up with his hands on his hips, changing his voice to a poor imitation of his father figure, “’Always stay one step ahead of your opponent - never let yourself be distracted or tricked.’” Geralt stood up partly to playfully knock it onto the ground “Hey!”

“Wouldya quit that, Lambert! Geeze. Yen was never in town, was she? I knew there was no truth in that unicorn bullshit.” He complained, sitting back down again.

“Na, not that I know of. Now! Any piece of clothing you have, I can claim like you claimed my hat, right?” Lambert asked pointing at Geralt.

“Yeah, suppose so. And that is not your hat.”

“Good.” Then he said a statement he never thought he would get the chance to say, “Your smallclothes, Geralt, hand them over.” He stuck out a hand and wiggled his fingers as Geralt looked at him in astonishment before weighing his options, then standing, stripping off his tight trousers, leaving them in a heap on his seat. With a withering look at Lambert, he dropped his smallclothes and put them on the table while sitting quickly back down on his trousers, using a leg of them to retain some modesty. Geralt’s smallclothes had to be the most boring pair Lambert had ever seen. They were an off-white and were held together by two poorly tied bows in string. Lambert covered his disappointment at Geralt’s shyness and poor taste in smallclothes with an uproarious laugh and a slap on the table. Geralt couldn’t help but smile a little at Lambert’s teasing. 

Truth be told, Geralt’s feelings for Lambert had altered ever since he had seen him take down a griffon single-handed. That was about six years ago now. He had used moves Geralt had never even heard of - let alone thought a witcher of the School of the Wolf would be able to do. He was never a bad looking guy, sharp too, sometimes too sharp, he had just flown under Geralt’s radar until then. But after that moment he would watch Lambert when they were practicing and admire his physical form as well as his fighting form. Geralt found him graceful and honestly quite handsome. He knew how to dance with a blade, he would switch from offence to defensive moves like a Cat, strike like a Viper, and measure his strikes, making each one count, like a Wolf. 

Still focused on what little he got to see of his prize for winning last time, those beautiful thighs and just a hint of what hangs between them, Lambert lost the next game to distraction. “Dammit!” he said and slapped the table with his cards. “Alright, whaddya-want, my left sock?”

“Your smallclothes.” Geralt smirked, “hand them over.” Lambert’s stomach dropped and he regretted his wardrobe choices this morning.

“Geralt, come on man. You want my left sock.” He almost begged.

“No, I’m sure your feet stink after all that walkin’ you did on The Path,” then Geralt said something Lambert never thought he would have the pleasure, or displeasure, of hearing, “Take it off, Lambert.” He drawled.

Lambert steadied himself as he rose from the table and turned around, his back to Geralt. Oh no, that would be bad. He turned back around, his fingers playing with the clasp of his belt. Nonono. That would be worse… 

“I said strip, not strip dance!”

“Hold on a minute!” Lambert panicked. He sighed as he decided against hiding behind a pillar or something. Down go the trousers, and down goes Geralt’s jaw. Lambert’s lace and silk were definitely out of place in the dinginess of the keep by candlelight. There was a little heart colored in with lace just above his crotch that pointed to the bulge beneath it. Lace slung low on his hips and hugged them all the way around. It mimicked the ‘V’ shape on his pelvis, showing off his rounded hips, and muscular figure. The rest of the panties were made of a soft, shiny red silk. 

“What? They’re breathable.” He shrugged before stripping the lace from his hips and sliding the silk down his legs shamelessly. He was acting shameless, but he was thanking whatever gods still loved witchers that he couldn’t blush, and that the lighting was low.

Placing them on the table revealed them to be a thong. The thin strip of red silk in the back really gave that away. Geralt couldn’t take his eyes off of them his mind racing. Had Lambert been wearing one of his little numbers when Geralt was staring at his backside during training? Is that why it looked so… perky? Lambert quickly sat down to retain whatever modesty he still had left. Thinking on Lambert’s prowess as a witcher while eyeing his little panties was… the only word coming to Geralt’s vodka addled mind was ‘seductive’. 

“Don’t remember Vesemir teaching us about breathable fabric.”

“Yet another trick I picked up on The Path, then.”

“Learn this one from the School of the Whores?”

“Shut up and enjoy the view, Pretty Boy.”

“Can’t. Not in this light. Light’s much better up in my room.”

“Just shut up, alright, you caught me on an off day.”

“Soo… you don’t of’en wear pretty lil’ things like this?” Geralt slurred picking up the panties in question with a crooked finger. His right eyebrow quirked up and a smile danced on his lips. He was quite enjoying himself now. Forget strip Gwent, forget Gwent! He had other plans for what he wanted to do on this table now.

Lambert looked taken aback and fidgeted with his trousers. “What? No! I mean, yes, I mean…” his voice got mean again, “Whatsit to you?”

“A whole lot,” Geralt murmured while studying the lace pattern. It would have sounded better to Lambert if he didn’t remember how many mug-fulls they had had.

“Whatever, this is getting out of hand. We should…” he had fantasized about a moment like this so many times one would think he would be ready for it. He should have a witty comeback for everything Geralt might say at this point. But his voice and mind failed him, and he looked at his own naked knees. He blamed the vodka. He drew his blunt fingernails against his naked thighs. “get back to the game.” He said finally.

“Nah, forget Gwent.” Geralt lifted up the offending thong into the air and spun them on his finger.

“Hey, stop pawing!” He reached for them over the table as Geralt pulled them away. “Geeze, man!” Lambert complained and Geralt laughed. Lambert stumbled around the table and fell into Geralt while he was trying to grab them back. He wrapped an arm around Lambert’s bare waist knocking their cocks together briefly and he wiggled his eyebrows drunkenly.

Lambert punched him on the shoulder to make him lower his arm and get the panties back into reach, “Bastard!” He said adding emphasis to the hit.

Geralt stood up, knocking Lambert to the ground, along with his drained mug. Lambert tried not to think about how he was on the ground half-naked in front of a half-naked Geralt and foggily tried to recall how he had gotten to such a position. He quickly, or as quickly as he could without falling back over or losing consciousness, used the table to get back on his feet just to throw himself back into Geralt’s barrel chest. He knocked him back a few stumbling steps and grabbed at Geralt’s thin shirt, nearly ripping it off the other man. That sparked an idea in him that Sober Lambert would never attempt. But Drunk Lambert…

He grabbed Geralt’s shirt again with both hands this time and tore the shirt down the center, revealing two perfectly formed pecs and a washboard stomach covered in scars. Lambert couldn’t get distracted if he wanted this plan to work, he reminded himself. But a little groping wouldn’t hurt. He put a hand right over a pec and squeezed while stretching up to catch the panties.

The loss of his shirt got Geralt to lower his arm and get off his guard just long enough for Lambert to make a grab for the smallclothes. The silk nearly slipped through his fingers but a strip of it caught on one finger and he quickly tightened his grip and tugged. The only thing that achieved was snapping Geralt’s attention back to the wrestling.

“I swear, Geralt, if you rip these!”

Geralt grinned as Lambert tugged again at the panties and Geralt pulled back ripping them in two.

“You bastard!” Lambert drunkenly tipped forwards pulled by Geralt’s hand that was wrapped around his waist. Geralt braced himself using the chair behind him. Geralt stared at Lambert’s sneering mouth, he loved that he had his undivided attention in this way. Lambert surged forward in a drunken rage, and Geralt aimed it so that their lips crashed together. Lambert pressed his tongue against Geralt’s lips. Geralt’s mouth opened and his tongue slopped into Lambert’s mouth. They were drunkenly kissing one another, and it slowly dawned on them both that the situation had taken quite the turn.

Geralt’s arm wrapped tighter around Lambert’s waist. Lambert’s heart raced as he pressed their chests together and slipped a hand into Geralt’s long and loose white hair. Foggily, Lambert remembered how Aiden had kissed him and how good that had felt. He tried to kiss Geralt how Aiden had kissed. Tilting his head ever so much and playing special attention to Geralt’s tongue and lips he kissed. It was messy and Aiden wouldn’t have been proud, but Geralt seemed to like it. 

“Well, well, where’ya learn them tricks? Color me impressed.” Geralt said in a low voice that almost didn’t echo against the stone walls.

“School of the Cat. Got a problem with that?” Aiden. That’s a topic they don’t breach often. Geralt was proud of Lambert for mentioning him, even in an oblique way. It had been four years after all, Geralt pushed Lambert back and steadied him before tottering to his feet away from the chair.

“You got anymore of these lil’ treats stashed away?” he asked as he held up his half of the smallclothes. 

“Yeah, in my trunk upstairs. Whaddya want? A fashion show?” Geralt looks a little surprised, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

“Is that gunna happen?”

“Not on your life!” Lambert wished he had said ‘yes, anything for you.’ But he didn’t, “Lemmie tell you what is gunna happen, though. You’re gunna lean over that table and take ten smacks for rippin’ my best pair.”

Geralt’s eyes shone with excitement and drunken arousal. “Yeah?”

“Just bend over, Pretty Boy.” Geralt obeyed and Lambert watched in awe as he did. What luck… what fucking luck! He placed a hand on Geralt’s backside as Geralt looked back over his shoulder to watch. Lambert grabbed up a cheek and shook it watching the meat of his ass jiggle in his hand. He gave it an experimental squeeze and loved the firmness.

“How long are ya’ gunna make me wait?” Geralt teased.

“Count for me, so I don’t lose track.” Lambert ordered with a final squeeze of the other cheek. Geralt nodded and Lambert pulled his hand back and THWAP! he smacked the swell of Geralt’s ass with his open palm.

“Mmf.” Geralt stifled. Lambert rubbed circles the spot he had hit with his half of the silky smallclothes.

“Yeah? You like that? I told you to count. Do it out loud.” Lambert sneered.

“One.” Geralt said clearly.

“That’s better.” Another hit, on Geralt’s left cheek this time. The sound of it reverberated off the walls of the room.

“Two.” Geralt growled. His fingers beginning to tighten around the silk.

“Good boy, eight more to go.” Lambert teased. He placed a slap to Geralt’s right cheek and relished the sound and the sight of it.

“Mpf!” Geralt’s fist clenched his half of the panties while the other one gripped the other edge of the table. “Three.” The sting of each blow was bearable so far, but the fact that it was Lambert giving them was humiliating and titillating all at the same time.

Another slap right on the split of his cheeks, Lambert watched them both jiggle at the shock. “Look at you, Geralt, the famous White Wolf.” He said with admiration.

“Four.” Geralt groaned out.

“I wonder what your bard would make of this. What kinda ballad would he write if he could see you like this?” Lambert pulled back for another smack. Geralt gripped the other side of the table and squirmed to get away. “Ah, ah!” Lambert tutted gripping Geralt’s hips to keep him in place, “I didn’t hear you say ten yet.”

“Ten.” growled Geralt.

“Do you want to make it fifteen, White Wolf? Do that again and I won’t count it”

Geralt sighed, “Four.” Lambert wound up again for another hit. SMACK! It left a red handprint that faded quickly as his cheek wiggled in the aftershocks. Lambert had always been hypnotized by Geralt’s ass but now he was transfixed. Geralt was beautiful. Amazing. “Five” Geralt managed.

SMACK! Lambert aimed his smack directly over the red handprint that was quickly fading and both men moaned out in pleasure. One from the pain and humiliation and the other for the sight of the fresh reddened handprint fading to pink on Geralt’s still jiggling ass.

“SIx,” Geralt’s voice was starting to quiver and his breath was becoming ragged. Lambert showed no mercy and struck again; this time low, close to his thighs. Geralt’s body sang at the pleasure mixing with the pain. The feel of Lambert’s panties occasionally soothing the heat made Geralt sigh.

“Seven” Geralt gasped, his knuckles turning white gripping against the wood of the table. his other hand clutched the silk and lace close to his heaving chest. His prick was beginning to respond to Lambert’s attentions, filling out against the table

“Three more, baby.” Lambert had called Geralt ‘baby’ before, but in passing. Like ‘that’s right, baby!’ when they took down a contract together or something to that effect. But this time it shot pleasure through the two men and he whispered it again, “Just three more, baby.” He said it like he meant it.

Another slap and Geralt twisted away from the blow so it struck his hip instead.

“What did I say, Geralt.” Lambert chastised, “That one doesn’t count” 

“Seven.” He whimpered. Lambert rubbed circles on the reddened skin before placing another well aimed slap.

“Eight.” He sounded lost in the feelings that Lambert was giving him. Lambert pulled his hand back and cracked it against Geralt’s left cheek.

“Nine!” Geralt shouted. He knew he was going to have to stand up at some point and his semi-hard prick would be on full display with no shirt to cover it up.

“Shh! You’re gunna wake up the whole keep!” The last smack was the hardest and Lambert watched the jiggle with rapt interest.

“Ten,” Geralt gritted out, relieved it was over, even though a rebellious part of him wanted more. Lambert gently rubbed the piece of silk to soothe and cool his pink cheeks. 

“You did good, Geralt. I’m surprised. You ever done that before?” Lambert asked in a reverent tone.

Geralt looked over his shoulder, looked Lambert right in the eye. “Yennefer.”

“Ah.” He should have guessed. Tonight, he was planning to make him forget all about her. Geralt lifted himself off the table and turned to face Lambert. His face was blissful but wanting. Lambert saw that Geralt was in the same semi-hard state as he was.

“It’s gettin’ late. Wanna come to bed with me?” Geralt slurred.

“Can’t get enough of me, eh?” Lambert retorted.

“Hey, I just took ten for you. How ‘bout some aftercare?”

“Quit whinin’, you big baby.” Lambert said as he walked into Geralt’s arms, pressing his chest to Geralt’s again and cupping his ass with the small bit of silk and lace. He carefully kept their hips apart, Lambert would have loved to have ground his hips to Geralt’s, but Geralt was drunk and he couldn’t be sure if Geralt would care for that in the morning. “Want me to carry you up the stairs?” he was half joking, but real concern crept into his voice.

“No reason to wait. Let’s go.” Geralt swung one leg over Lambert’s arm and Lambert picked up the other one. With Geralt’s arm around his neck, Lambert gently bounced Geralt into a comfortable place in his arms. He was thankful for his witcher strength and ability to focus. Being in the state he was in and keeping Geralt up and level was taking all of his focus.

Lambert wanted to say something sweet. Something Sober Geralt would remember, but his brain, addled by alcohol and Geralt’s voice repeating numbers in his head, couldn’t think of something that suited.

“Fuck. How drunk are we?”

“Drunk.” Geralt responded, making a motion that felt to Lambert suspiciously like he just pet his hair. With measured, stumbly steps Lambert carried Geralt up the stone staircase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for more! It's going to get crazy as you can tell.


	3. Love Drunk

After staggering to the door to Lambert’s room, Lambert used his shoulder to push it open; once inside he kicked it shut. He laid Geralt on the bed, paying special attention to Geralt’s backside against the rough blankets. Geralt took that opportunity to pet the back of Lambert’s head, loving how silky his hair was, like strands of glass, slick and smooth. The mingled scents of Lambert’s vodka, their arousal, and the wood chips that Lambert keeps in his room to ward off the ‘old keep’ smell, swirled around them making Geralt dizzy with excitement.

Lambert leaned in to get a kiss from Geralt now that he was ensconced in his bed. Their noses rubbed together as they kissed and Geralt found that being pressed into the blankets and pillows by the body on top of him was a sensation that filled with lust. Geralt spread his legs to make room for Lambert on the bed. He wasted no time in crawling between them. Lambert broke the kiss for a moment and reached up in the array of bottles that were above his bed, knocking some over in his drunken groping. Some were labeled but some were not, this one was not. With a glance to Geralt’s body which was spread out like feast, he poured some out onto his hand. His full erection drew Lambert’s eyes and Lambert could think of nothing he wanted in his mouth more. Geralt was watching Lambert’s every move, his pupils were blown so wide that they could almost pass for human eyes.

“You sure about that aftercare? Last chance to back out...” Yeah, he had just spanked him senseless but that wasn’t who he really was to Geralt. It was a sizable piece of him, sure, but so is the compassionate man offering to take care of him. The man that wants nothing more than gentle kisses and lovemaking until dawns first soft light. Melitele… what is wrong with him? What kind of a witcher was he?

Geralt flipped over on his stomach and Lambert was gifted a view of two rosy cheeks, just waiting for oil to soothe them. Slowly, softly, he rubbed the oil between his hands to warm it before placing his hands on Geralt’s lovely round ass. Their movements were still sloppy, but the drunkenness was beginning to fade as their minds became more focused on each other.

“Mmm…” Geralt hummed his approval as Lambert began massaging and rubbing Geralt’s backside.

“Fuck.” Lambert swore under his breath. Lambert’s fingers slid across his soft skin, feeling along the curve like it was the best gift he had ever received. The pinkness was going down, and the heat had dulled. Lambert’s guard was dropping. His arms stiffened and his mind screamed at him to cover up how drunk and vulnerable he was being. It urged him laugh at Geralt for ‘being easy’ or something, anything, to save face. 

But truth be told he didn’t want to be an ass right now, he didn’t want to be on his guard. Lambert wanted to let himself be comfortable despite himself. Geralt had asked him to be gentle with him, by name even. So was it Lambert who was ‘being easy'? Or maybe they were both finally just giving in. Geralt had seen Lambert had a softer side before, but that was reserved for when he thought he was alone or for animals and horses, never for Geralt. Geralt usually got the side of Lambert that didn’t want to be hurt by anyone, so it hurt others. ‘Be the bigger threat, you will live longer’ as Vesemir had said to him, Lambert had taken that to heart. He wanted to live. He has fought hard for it as a child going through the trials and saw how even if you try the hardest you can still make a fatal error. No time to catch your breath, and so little time to grieve those who did pause for even the smallest of moments. Lambert let a small bit of warmth grow inside of him as he listened to Geralt’s sighs and moans. Tears began forming in his eyes, he quickly wiped them with his shoulder.

He was still half clothed. He took his hands off Geralt to finish undressing himself. Geralt whined from underneath him and arched his back to wiggle his hips. Lambert’s cock twitched at how much Geralt wanted his touch and heat began to grow in his chest. He tossed his shirt away and put his hands back on Geralt’s hips and held them still. 

All Lambert could think of was eating out the ample ass in front of him. It glistened with oil and still had a slight rosy color from Lambert’s earlier attentions. Nothing was stopping him from just… leaning forward and licking the puckered hole while fondling the other man’s balls. He could use his hands to lift Geralt’s hips enough to slip his tongue inside and maybe some fingers. He could find that little place inside of Geralt and abuse it until Geralt only knew how to say Lambert’s name.

No. Lambert restrained himself. That was not what Geralt asked for. It might fall under aftercare, sure. But it wouldn’t be as sweet now, as he could only do it really well when he was sober. No one wants a drunkard’s mouth anywhere near their delicate bits.

Lambert took the remnants of Geralt’s shirt off and trailed kisses down his spine, cupping Geralt’s muscular sides with open palms. His nose ran along a few of the scars he found there. Others he kissed. He traced the curves of Geralt’s muscles with his oiled fingers; each place he lavished with affection.

There was one scar, just on Geralt’s side that was long and wicked looking. Lambert could tell from the clean cut and the lack of ripped skin around it that it was definitely from a blade and not the claw or tooth of any monster. He licked up that one, going slow, tasting Geralt’s skin. He blew cool air on it and Geralt shivered and looked back at Lambert. Soft yellow eyes met soft yellow eyes and Geralt reached down to cup his face and rub his thumb across Lambert’s cheek. Rolling over on his side was a task with two grown men in one bed, but they managed it and ended up laying side by side facing one another.

They both pushed forward for a kiss and it was nothing like the first one. It was soft and searching. Their hands touched and held one another. Geralt broke the kiss as Lambert’s hand let go if his and trailed up his sides. Cupping the muscles there and squeezing gently.

“You are so… pretty, Pretty Boy.” Lambert growled.

“Hmm.” Geralt grunted in response. His eyes were starting to droop, and he had a goofy smile spreading across his face. Lambert kissed down Geralt’s chest and traced a few more scars and curves with his tongue. For so long he had wanted to touch Geralt’s body. Find all the places that make him sigh, gasp, or best yet whisper Lambert’s name. He finally had the opportunity to find those places now, he wasn’t about to waste it.

When he kissed behind Geralt’s ear, when he pressed on Geralt’s sides just below his armpits, when his kisses drifted low on his stomach, Geralt sighed. Kissing the corners of his mouth made him hold Lambert tighter. Lambert took up one of Geralt’s hands and kissed the tips of his fingers. Geralt watched him, just watched him, with bated breath. He kissed them again, this time with his eyes closed and Geralt pressed against his lips, wiggling his fingers to gain access between them.

Lambert opened his mouth and sucked on Geralt’s fingers, hollowing out his cheeks as he did so. His eyes opened softly, and he tilted his head to suck on Geralt’s fingers from a new angle. The light in his eyes from under his thick eyelashes struck something in Geralt, and it made even more heat pool in his loins.

“Lambert…” Geralt sighed. Success… Lambert had achieved it; all he would dare hope to get. He slid the fingers out of his mouth and leaned down to kiss Geralt again. Every kiss, every touch beyond this one was bonus.

Geralt lay there, love drunk and vodka drunk as Lambert lavished affection on his body, he didn’t know how to enjoy it, but he knew it felt good. Having Lambert kiss his scars and squeeze his chest was heavenly. Geralt decided he could afford to close his eyes. He wouldn’t fall asleep; he would just rest a bit while Lambert takes care of him. Sleep crept up on him anyway and soon he was drifting on a cloud fueled by Lambert’s kisses and touches.

In his semi-conscious mind, a vision of Lambert cutting wood to ward off the coming frost swam into view. All shirtless and sweaty in the cold air. He would lift the axe like it was weightless, then bring it down and CRACK the wood would spilt and fall away. He liked watching that, he liked watching Lambert’s muscles work in that fluid motion. He had pictured that fluid motion and how it would look if Lambert’s hands were wrapped around his own cock. Gently pumping away the night.

Lambert was lean and Geralt wanted to touch his lithe form, feel the thick muscles under the soft skin. To run his hands over Lambert’s head and pull him in for rough kisses and put him off his ever-vigilant guard, relax him. Geralt opened his eyes for just a moment to see Lambert trailing kisses down his stomach and closed his eyes again to feel them better. He tried to focus his senses but again he drifted…

Before he knew it, Geralt woke slowly to the sun pouring in through the window. It hurt his eyes more than it usually does. He was hungover again. He tried to rise himself, but Lambert was asleep on his arm facing away from him. A good way to wake up after all the years of wanting to wake up this way. This wasn’t his room… it must be Lambert’s. It smelled like Lambert. Alcohol, sweet musk, and a light sent of pinewood lingered in the air. He shook Lambert’s shoulder.

“Hey, wake up.”

“Mmph.” Lambert batted away Geralt’s hand.

“Come on, wakey wakey.” Geralt said flatly, he pulled his arm back from being Lambert’s pillow and roughly patted his shoulder. Geralt, now freed from pillow duties, swung his legs over the side of the bed to find that he had slept naked last night. Turning to look over his shoulder he saw that Lambert was in the same state. The events from last night trickled back into Geralt’s mind.

From Lambert’s titillating fashion choices to the feelings he remembered having while bent over the card table to the warm oil massage on his backside that traveled all over his body, and finally to the way Lambert looked at him while he sucked on his fingers. Would it begin and end with that one night? Witchers do tend to have only one night with a person and then never again (unless they were paid to do it, but Geralt was thinking of a more stable relationship), does that rule apply to witchers when they sleep with other witchers?

Geralt remembered Lambert gushing about his Cat friend, Aiden. Those two witchers were, well, almost human with each other. Aiden and Lambert were no one night deal. That was a whole ass relationship. Complete with fights, make-up sex, hand holding, sharing contracts, kissing in public to make the townsfolk uncomfortable, so much more than what either of them could ever have dreamed of. How had that worked? From what Geralt could see they would work things out for themselves and didn’t care what the townsfolk, or even other witchers, thought. They were perfect for each other, one balance the other in times of turmoil and they made the other happier by sharing their happiness. When winters came, Aiden would come to Kaer Morhen occasionally to remain safe from the cold. Due to his refusal to take certain contracts, the kinds that were penned by nobles who were squabbling with other nobles, you know, assassination jobs, some Cats had contracts with his name on them and he could not safely stay with the Dyn Marv Caravan.

Lambert really admired Aiden for that, he was a figure of change and quietly challenging the status quo for Cats, and witchers in general, just by being unapologetically himself, not breaking his morals for money even when he was starving. Lambert knew Aiden so differently from the rest of the world, he knew him to be a gentle and kindly man, a witcher who knew when and how to say ‘I love you’. He said it to Lambert many times over the years before Lambert began to think he was being serious. He took a chance and said it back to him. The words felt soft and sweet on his tongue, a new sensation. Aiden had kissed many more ‘I love you’ s from Lambert’s lips that happy day.

But about four years ago from when Geralt had woken up with Lambert in his arms, Lambert came back to the keep late for the winter. Dangerously late. The snow was already knee deep and Lambert was freezing cold but red hot. No one could touch him. He wanted nothing, not food, not even a seat by the fire. He just went to his room and slammed the door so hard it echoed all around the keep. Lambert’s grief, his screams of rage, the sound of things breaking against the walls, followed by seemingly endless sobs that permeated the air around the room.

Everything that could be done for him was done. They had brought him food up to his room, but he just picked at it. they had offered him vodka they had tried to make, but he just yelled at them for messing with his distillery. They gave him time alone, but he was too alone.

Just before the winter ended that year, Eskel did the unthinkable; he risked Lambert’s wrath and wrapped his arms around the smaller witcher in a hug. Lambert stood there limply for a moment before holding onto Eskel like his life depended on it. Geralt had joined in on that, squishing Lambert to both himself and Eskel. Vesemir looked on with a mask of fatherly indifference before coming over and giving Lambert a pat on the back. 

Geralt and the others didn’t know what had happened until the winter had truly ended and Aiden was nowhere to be found. All that was left of him was a stone stuck by Lambert himself into the ground that read, 

‘Aiden

The best man that ever lived’

Geralt watched to other man sleep. No witcher truly knew peace, but Lambert got close with that one. He admired him for that and knew he would never be Aiden. But he was Geralt of Rivia and that had to count for something, or else Lambert wouldn’t be here. 

Lambert had rolled over on his back now that there was space for him to do so. Geralt traced his face, trailed a finger down the bridge of his hooked nose and leaned over to kiss him awake. Lambert sleepily kissed him back and slowly opened his yellow catlike eyes. They focused on Geralt and he moaned Geralt’s name into his lips.

“Geralt… you stayed.”


	4. Mutual Feelings

“Mmm.” Geralt nodded. Where would he go when the best place he could think of to be was here?

“You still drunk?”

“No, you?”

Lambert thought for a moment, “Yeah, off you this time. Not my vodka.” Lambert looked pained. “I gotta tell you somethin’, man. I have been… hoping for a moment like this for a very long time and now that it is here… uh… fuck it.”

“Fuck what?” Geralt asked starting to smile at Lambert’s fumbling. It was nice to see this softer side. No loud laughter, no boasting, just Lambert laying naked beside him telling him… wait… what did he just say? 

“What?” he asked.

“I said fuck me. You gunna do it or not? If not get outta my room and leave me alone.” He countered defensively, turning to hide his face into his pillow. “Or if you don’t mind touching me, you could just fuck yourself while I watch. I…” It was said softer, as close to a plea as Geralt had ever heard Lambert’s voice go. “I think about that a lot.”

Geralt was taken aback. What a request! And so early in the morning! And from Lambert! He never thought for second that Lambert would look and think about him in that way. But here he was asking for things Geralt only dreamed of doing. Was he dreaming? 

He looked down at Lambert who seemed to be holding his breath waiting for him to respond. He looked so vulnerable, His face turned away from him almost buried in his pillows and the sheets pushed down to his tapered waist. 

“Sounds nice.” Geralt said in a low gravelly voice, “Will you let me fuck you after?”

Lambert looked up at him with surprise, “yeah…” he breathed 

“Move outta the way, Lambert.” Lambert sat up and watched in wonder as Geralt picked up the bottle of oil from last night and shuffled on his knees to the head of the bed facing Lambert. He began stroking himself with an oiled-up hand while looking Lambert right in the eyes. “This what you wanted? This what keeps you up at night?” he growled.

Lambert’s eyes never left Geralt’s hand as it went leisurely up and down his shaft. “Yeah” he gasped “Pass me that…”

Geralt did with his free hand after oiling it up too, “Or did you mean like this?” He lifted his hips and began fingering his own hole teasing it open and slipping a well-oiled finger inside with a grunt that shot a jolt of pleasure directly to Lambert’s stiffening cock. Geralt closed his eyes and pressed another finger inside while his other hand kept increasing the pace on his prick. He was going a little fast but wanted to be opened, wanted the burn, wanted the pleasure of his hand. Most of all he wanted that light to stay in Lambert’s eyes.

Lambert dumped more oil than what was strictly necessary onto his hands. One hand wrapped around his cock going up and down matching Geralt’s pace and the other was creeping closer and closer to his own ass. He had done this late at night. Fingered himself and thought of Geralt, came from it too. But this was different.

He was embarrassed about how much he wanted this, how long he had waited to see Geralt fall apart in front of him and here it was now, and he didn’t have the slightest idea on how to deal with it.

“Geralt?” his voice sounded small and scared.

Geralt slowed his pace and opened his catlike eyes, focusing on Lambert. He panted and waited, watching Lambert for further signs of distress. Finding none, he leaned forward and met Lambert in the middle for a kiss. It was a desperate kiss. One that they had been wanting to give each other for quite a long time now. It went on as they both picked the pace back up on their pricks. Geralt took the time to swirl his thumb on the head of his before returning to his rhythm. Lambert saw how much that little movement pleased Geralt and tried it on himself and shivered. Geralt watched how Lambert followed his movements. He moved his own fingers closer to his prostate and hoped his own pleasure would spur Lambert on. 

Lambert had breached himself and was loving every inch. Scissoring himself open while he watched Geralt’s fingers dance along the underside of his cock.

“Open yourself real nice, Lambert. I want you to ride me.” Geralt grunted.

“Issat somethin’ that keeps you up at night?” Lambert asked hopefully. Geralt nodded and Lambert slid a third finger inside, enjoying the burning sensation the stretch was giving him.

“Geralt,” he sighed, “Please!” he closed his eyes and imagined that it was Geralt’s fingers three knuckles deep.

“That’s right, baby. I can’t wait much longer.” Geralt had taken his hand off of his cock and removed his fingers from his hole. He was watching Lambert spread himself with eyes blown to near complete blackness.

Lambert followed suite by removing his fingers and stopping his rhythmic strokes on his hard dick. He tipped forward and crawled up the bed to place a bite on Geralt’s neck. Geralt cried out but Lambert didn’t stop, he bit harder and let his tongue run over the skin he had taken in his mouth. He stopped biting long enough to suck on the place he had bitten into a hickey and lick the pain away.

Geralt’s hands had flown to Lambert’s sides and held him firmly. He moaned and sucked in a breath as he rode out the pain to get to the pleasure. 

“Damn.” Lambert said pulling back after a few parting licks, “I… I thought ‘bout riding you too. You were laying on your back just like this,” Lambert helped Geralt stretch out his legs and get comfortable on his back. He kissed his knee and up his thigh, looking up at him the whole time to gauge his reaction. Geralt’s breath got sharper the farther up his thigh Lambert went. 

Lambert teased him by breathing hot air on the head of his cock allowing Geralt to think what he will. He loved to see the slight disappointment flash across Geralt’s face as he sat back on his ankles and opened the unlabeled bottle again. He oiled up his hands and poured a little more oil onto the head of Geralt’s erection. Watching it drip its way down, rolling around the subtle curves.

He took Geralt in both of his hands and pumped experimentally. Geralt hit his head against the pillows and groaned. His hips stuttered forward into Lambert’s hands as he blew cool air on Geralt’s slit. Geralt gripped the sheets and called out for more.

“Oh, I’ll give you more. You just wait here and don’t go soft.” Lambert said smoothly, still pumping Geralt slowly but firmly. He had a plan for this. Such a good plan he actually spent good money on it, quite a lot of it actually. Countless contracts and countless drowners. 

He left Geralt on the bed and sauntered over to the trunk. Geralt whined at the loss and reached out for Lambert. Lambert relished that feeling before bending down and picking out a wonderful deep green number. He checked to see that he had all the pieces before turning to the door and opening it.

“Where are you going?” Geralt whined from the bed. His erection was still strong but there was hurt in his eyes.

“You will thank me, I’m sure of it. Just stay there and don’t move, asshole.” he promised as he slipped out of the door. There was a small closet near his room, and he made a beeline for it, shutting the door behind him he thanked Melitele that no one else was awake yet.


	5. Fucking in Frippery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting! I got lost in life and that is my only excuse! I hope you like this chapter and find it worth the wait

Quickly, he slipped the soft fabric against his skin, and slid the stocking up around his thick thighs. Tightening the ribbon in the back and tying the small bow was that hardest and most time consuming. He was racing against the clock and Geralt’s possibly flagging erection. He adjusted his straps across his chest and swallowed his nerves, Aiden had liked this and told him that anyone who didn’t was fooling themselves and Geralt was no fool. A few deep breaths later, Lambert did a mad dash back to his room for fear of the ‘everyone is asleep’ status changing. His shoes making clacking noises that reverberated against the walls and he was sure the whole keep could hear. He flung the door to his room wide and shut it tight with a bang. Geralt nearly jumped out of his skin at the intrusion and sound.

“Hey!” he shouted involuntarily. 

Lambert struck what he hoped was a nonchalant but sexy pose that showed off his body. The dark green lingerie weaved on his chest making four Xs; one just below his throat, one above each of his pecs and one on his sternum, forming a large cross and leaving his pecs exposed, just begging to be held and perhaps bitten. Three green lace pieces, connected by pieces of whalebone and black mesh, wrapped themselves around his waist, cinching him in and adding more taper to his waist. Geralt’s eyes searched lower and found that the panties were to die for. A lace front that swept low on is stomach and did little to hide Lambert’s weeping erection. That bulge was obscene, and Geralt felt his own erection twitch with interest as he stared at it.

He did a spin in the black high heels, flashing the painted red bottoms so Geralt could get the full effect. The mesh stockings were attached to the last belt around his waist at two points, one in front and one on the backs of his thighs and stretched over his bare ass. His cheeks were perky and round and Geralt couldn’t help but think about all the times he had stared at it for a while before taking in the rest of the tantalizing display.

Lambert’s back was nearly completely exposed except for the three bits of lace tracing his waist and the little ribbon holding it all together, crisscrossing down his lower back to end in a small green bow just above his ass. He was covered in white scars and his muscles were lean. He rolled his muscular shoulder blades, obviously showing off, lifting one while dropping the other. After a few rolls he stuck his ass out to Geralt and quickly wiggled it in short motions by lifting one heel then the other, flexing his leg muscles and making a clickclickclick noise on the hard floor. Geralt watched his cheeks move and loved every second. 

“Lambert?” Geralt could believe his eyes, “Lambert…” he moaned beginning to tug himself off to the beautiful view in front of him.

“No, Geralt.” Lambert teased, “That’s for me later, don’t spoil it now.”

“Mmpff” Geralt grunted trying to stop his motions.

“Lay on your back. Hands on your chest.” He ordered. Geralt obeyed immediately, his eyes never leaving Lambert’s body.

“My eyes are up here.” Geralt looked up at Lambert’s face and keened. How was this man so handsome?

Lambert stepped onto the bed with some difficulty but kept his balance. “Way up here.” He stood in his high heels one on either side of Geralt. Geralt’s view was beautiful. He looked up Lambert’s body and found the most prominent thing that stuck out to him was the roundness of the peeks of cheek he could see between the other man’s legs and the massive cock, it was so close to his face. 

Lambert lowered himself down onto his knees around Geralt’s abdomen and slowly rubbed the lace against his skin. Lambert’s bare cheeks touched Geralt’s cock and Lambert stopped his grinding motion, stiffening between Geralt’s hands. Geralt lifted Lambert’s hips and pulled them up to his face, kissing the lace front. Lambert sighed and reached his fingers down to part the two sections of lace and free his cock to the open air.

Geralt wasted no time and sucked it into his mouth reverently. His tongue danced along the slit and just under the head, searching for sensitive places that made Lambert do that moany-hitch thing that Geralt was quickly becoming addicted to.

Lambert rolled his hips and held Geralt’s head against himself, driving Geralt farther onto his prick. Geralt swallowed around him and bobbed as best he could at the awkward angle. He sat up and Lambert’s dick popped out of his mouth. He could feel Lambert’s silk covered balls as they slid down Geralt’s chest. and Geralt reached up, stretching his neck, to catch and kiss Lambert’s mouth. Lambert brought his hands around the White Wolf’s head to cup the sides of his face and deepened the kiss. He continued sliding down Geralt’s chest until his ass hit Geralt’s cock again.

Lambert sucked on Geralt’s tongue harder and ground his hips against him. He squeezed Geralt between his knees and pressed back on the erection behind him. It slid easily between his ample cheeks. He rubbed it along the thin strip of fabric that blocked it from entering him completely. Geralt’s hand explored along Lambert’s sides and pressed him down against his prick, causing the kiss to be broken up by keen of pleasure from the both of them. Their voices mixing together in the air around them.

“Geralt, the famous White Wolf,” Lambert managed. “I have wanted you forever and now we’re so close…” he held him like he would disappear or turn to dust at any moment. He had had so much taken from him already why not this moment too.

“I’m here, Lambert. I’m here for you.” he paused, “Are you ready?”

“Fuck me, Geralt. Just fuck my ass, you beautiful bastard!”

At that Geralt let out a primal growl and pulled the little piece of fabric out from Lambert’s cheeks and pressed the head of his well-oiled cock against his puckered entrance. Lambert rocked himself against it until it breached his body. He shut his eyes tightly at the stretch and the fullness but continued to rock up and down until he was fully seated. His mouth hung open, he couldn’t control his hands, they gripped Geralt’s strong chest and occasionally balled themselves into fists in a kneading motion. He was making noise but forming no words. what could he say at this moment? The only words he knew were,

“Please, Geralt! Ah! So good, deep. Big. Yes, Geralt, please!”

Geralt was struggling to remain still enough as to not hurt Lambert by moving too soon, his hands were on Lambert’s corset just waiting to lift him up just to bring him back down onto his throbbing cock, then repeat until his arms got tired. Geralt’s arms didn’t get tired fast at all. This was going to be a nice fuck he thought dreamily.

Lambert rolled his hips experimentally and felt the friction that he had so dearly wished for. He looked at Geralt and saw the restraint in his eyes. “Don’t hold back, baby.” Lambert whispered, “Move.” 

Geralt pressed against Lambert’s sides and lifted him slightly off his cock only to press him back down again. Geralt’s hips lifted off the bed with each inward stroke and collided with Lambert making low slapping sounds. He whined at the loss of depth and cried out and the refilling. Again and again. Deeper and deeper. Geralt’s grunting and soft sighs were a wonderful back drop for the noise that Lambert was making. 

Geralt moved Lambert ever so slightly, changing the angle of his inward thrust, before plunging back in and striking the little bundle of nerves that lives deep inside of him.

Lambert tipped forward and caught himself on the White Wolf’s chest. “Oh! Oh Geralt…” he gasped, “Ah, Geralt don’t stop!” Geralt had no plans to.

Lambert began rolling his hips and bouncing on Geralt’s prick. It was Geralt’s turn to have a slacked jaw. Lambert’s body tightened around him and fluttered against the sensitive nerves along his dick. Melitele, Lambert was amazing. Beautiful.

Geralt gripped the corset, and the man in it, as Lambert set up a new rhythm with his body and mimicked it with his tongue in Geralt’s mouth. He sucked Geralt’s lower lip in between his teeth a pulled back, letting the skin slide out from in between his teeth. Leaning back, Lambert arched his back as much as the corset would allow and looked up at the ceiling of his room his arms laying loose at his sides. He continued bouncing using the muscles in his thighs and knees and it rippled the pleasure all though out his body. Geralt’s hands cupped Lambert’s pecs as the muscles there bounced, and he gave them alternating squeezes. Sweat was beginning to bead on their chests and foreheads and the sound of their heavy breathing flowed around the room.

“That’s right, baby,” Geralt returned, “that’s right.” Lambert stopped bouncing and leaned forward again, bracing his hands against Geralt’s shoulders. He couldn’t bring himself to look Geralt in the face for fear of what he would find there. He looked away and lifted and rolled his hips in such a way the tight ring of muscles sliding up and down Geralt would feel even tighter.

Geralt was desperate to see the light in Lambert’s eyes, like he had seen when Lambert had sucked his fingers last night. So, he reached up and took Lambert’s head and turned it so that they were facing one another. Lambert whimpered and shut his eyes tight and his asshole tighter in an attempt to distract Geralt. He didn’t want Geralt to see how much this was affecting him. If he looked at him like this, Geralt would surly laugh, tease him, or worse want to stop and never start again. He couldn’t mess this up.

He was so tight Geralt thought he might lose feeling in his cock, which would be a real shame right now as Lambert could obviously do incredible things with his body.

“Open… Open your eyes, baby. I wanna see you.” Geralt ground out in a gravelly voice thick with arousal. The air smelled of sex, of Geralt, and of pinewood, Lambert took gulp after gulp of it before opening his yellow, catlike eyes in a way that was more needy and gentle than he originally intended. His lips were parted and kissed a bright red and Geralt wanted this image to be etched into his memory for all time. 

The light was there, oh, gods, was it there in Lambert’s eyes. Geralt pulled his face closer for a rough kiss. They ground their lips together and Geralt kept pounding in and out of Lambert’s body. A hand wrapped around Lambert’s erection and pumped to the rhythm of their fucking.

“Lambert… come on, baby,” Geralt moaned out as Lambert changed the angle again to his more fully on the spot inside of him, “cum for me.” He kept his eyes on Lambert’s, loving how lost the other witcher looked and how blown his pupils were.

“Ger—alt!” Lambert cried out tucking his face close to the hickey he had sucked onto Geralt’s skin and his hips stuttered as he pressed Geralt’s cock against the bundle of nerves that had sent shockwave after shockwave of pleasure through him. Hot ribbons of cum shot out of Lambert, splashing between their chests and stomachs.

Lambert’s inner walls hugged Geralt’s erection and the sensations of Lambert’s sighs in his ear, the rippling muscles around his prick, the look in Lambert’s eyes all mixed together in Geralt’s loins and he was quick to follow Lambert’s lead. The warmth floods Lambert’s insides and he moans out Geralt’s name in his reverie-like state. After a few panting moments of pure bliss, Geralt lifted Lambert off his softening cock.

Lambert winced at the loss but helped Geralt lay him down on the bed next to him. Lambert let his eyes rove all over the body in front of him and sighed contentedly.

“Love” Geralt partly painted partly growled, “that outfit. How many more do you have in there?” he asked nodding to the chest in to corner.

“Enough to get me through this next winter if you want.” Lambert teased with a twinge of hope in his fucked-out voice.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment if you liked and stay tuned for more chapters!


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